


Dinner and a Show

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Series: Words Unspoken [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail knows too much and too little, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Feelings, Food is People, Hannibal Cooks, Hannigram - Freeform, Home is where the dogs are, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Language, Murder Family, Naughty Hannibal, Post Fromage, Sexual Tension, Someone Help Will Graham, Those Europeans and their nudity, Will Graham’s dogs, Will is Confused, Your friendly neighbourhood psychopath, flirtation, non-sexual nudity, season one, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9813326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Hannibal plays house with Will and Abigail.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Who was I kidding? Of course I was going to write more of this.
> 
> I know they talk about kids in Tome-wan where Will is quite taken with the idea but I think encephalitis addled Will would think about the concept of being a father a bit differently.

Will Graham stood by the window, a glass of the ridiculously expensive wine Hannibal had insisted on bringing in his hand, and watched.

Outside, in the field next to his house, was Abigail Hobbs, playing with his dogs in the fine layer of snow that had started to fall earlier in the day. Seeing her out there, throwing balls and sticks for the dogs, with a wide smile on her face, he realised how young she truly was.

Hannibal had proposed bringing Abigail to Will’s house so she could meet the dogs, something Will had been reluctant to do, but Hannibal had insisted, telling him that given Abigail’s outdoorsy upbringing, spending time with the animals could be good for her. Watching her now, Will found he had to agree.

He took a sip from his glass and turned to watch Hannibal work. He had also insisted on cooking for Will and Abigail and was now working on some sort of pork stew, although he had looked thoroughly affronted when Will had called it that. He had used some fancy French term for it that Will forgot again immediately. Watching him work now, Will was glad he had accepted Hannibal’s request that he stay out of the kitchen. The man really was an artist.

He looked up at Will now, having finished slicing carrots. “Did you ever consider having children, Will?” He looked past Will, out the window to where Abigail was still running around with the dogs.

Will followed his gaze and smiled gloomily. “In a purely theoretical manner. I don’t think I would be much good as a father.”

“I beg to differ. You’re handling yourself rather well with Abigail.”

Will scoffed. “Abigail isn’t a child. She’s practically an adult.”

Hannibal continued slicing things with frightening speed and precision. “Even so. She has suffered immense trauma. One of the common reactions to such trauma is to regress to a more childlike behaviour.” He nodded towards the window. “It would seem that is exactly what is happening now.”

Will looked outside again. Abigail was running at full speed away from the house, her laughter echoing in the emptiness of the field as the dogs chased her, overtaking her and jumping around her with happy barks. Will’s smile turned into a frown. “This should be her life. Being carefree like this… She should be applying to colleges and talking about boys with her friends.” He looked down at the glass of wine in his hand. Wine that was too dark all of a sudden, too red, too much like blood. The image of Garrett Jacob Hobbs flashed before his eyes, the wicked smile he had given Will as he lay dying, as Will tried to save his daughter’s life, as her blood spilled like a fountain from her neck and over Will and onto the floor, clear as day in his memory.

Will choked and walked over to the kitchen, pouring the wine into the sink.

Hannibal watched him with a raised eyebrow. “Something wrong with the wine?”

“No. Not with the wine.” Will ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Hannibal. I’m afraid I won’t be very pleasant company tonight.”

Hannibal studied him for a moment, eyes unreadable as always. It was a welcome change for Will instead of people always wearing all of their expectations on their faces. “If you’d rather we leave...”

“No, that’s not...” He rubbed his hands over his face, pressing against his eyes until it just started to become painful. “You know I enjoy having you here. A lot.” The look Hannibal gave him – as if he _knew_ – made his cheeks flush, and he looked at his hands quickly. “You and Abigail.”

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed then, and a moment later Winston padded into the kitchen, fur ruffled from having been towelled off. He stopped in the doorway and looked at Hannibal suspiciously before he turned around again and walked back into the living room. The following thud told Will he’d lain down on his pillow.

Hannibal smiled sardonically. “It would appear your dog is not overly fond of me.”

Will laughed softly. “It’s not you. He’s been a bit weird lately.” He looked at the ingredients still piled high on the kitchen counter. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

Hannibal shook his head, took Will’s shoulder and steered him towards the table with a gentle push. His hands really were extraordinarily warm, even through Will’s shirt. “Absolutely not. This is my treat.”

The door opened again and more dogs were let into the house one after the other as Hannibal returned to his preparations, and finally Abigail walked into the kitchen, smiling brightly, her cheeks red from the cold. She shrugged out of her jacket and plopped down into the chair opposite Will.

“Why didn’t you tell me about them sooner? They’re so cool!”

Will shrugged. “I thought it would be… inappropriate.”

She looked down at her hands for a moment. “It probably is. But I don’t really care.” She looked over at where Hannibal was working. “Should you be on your feet so long?”

He smiled softly. “So you’re a doctor now?”

Abigail blushed, and Will had to smile as well. “I was just wondering. With your wound and everything.”

Hannibal inclined his head. “I appreciate your concern but I am fine. It was fortunate that I keep my letter opener so sharp.” He waggled the knife in his hand at them, and Abigail laughed. It sounded strangely strained to Will’s ears.

“Do we at least get to set the table?” Will’s fingers had found a groove in the surface of the table and he realised he was running one of his fingers back and forth in it.

Hannibal gave a little bow, making Abigail laugh again. It sounded more relaxed now, and that was a sound Will could get used to hearing more often. “If you insist.”

The smells spreading through the kitchen made Will’s mouth water, the different aromas exploding on his tongue before he even got a taste. Hannibal worked with practised ease even in the unfamiliar kitchen, and when he finally set their plates in front of them with a flourish, Will would have given his right arm to get a taste. He nearly collapsed in his chair when he brought his spoon to his mouth.

“Hannibal, this is excellent.”

The other nodded his head in acceptance of his praise. “I’m glad you enjoy it.” He raised his own spoon to his lips, getting that far-away look that was somehow also full of concentration on his face Will had seen quite often when they were eating together. Hannibal focused entirely on the flavours, Will could tell. It was fascinating to watch.

His eyes moved to Abigail, and he frowned. She had also taken her first bite of the meat and vegetables and was now staring at Hannibal with confusion. “Abigail?”

Hannibal turned his head to look at her as well, and she dropped her gaze to her plate. “It’s… it’s nothing. I just...” She looked at Hannibal, the strained smile Will had so gotten used to back on her face. “It tastes lovely.”

After they had eaten and Will had forced Hannibal to stay seated while he and Abigail cleared the table, Abigail shuffled her feet, tugging on her scarf. 

“Would it be okay if I… spent some more time with the dogs?”

Will looked at his watch dubiously. “It’s pretty late already. Don’t you think you should get back?” He turned to Hannibal who gave him a look that clearly said ‘Let her’, and Will ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, alright.” She smiled brightly and practically skipped into the living room. Will chuckled to himself as he pulled a beer from his fridge and slid back into his chair. “As usual, you were right.”

Hannibal smiled sharply. “Did you expect anything else?”

Will’s breath caught in his throat at that smile, and he had to look away. Because if he didn’t? Hannibal would definitely see it on his face.

Will had been confused about a lot of things lately but he had no problem understanding that his relationship with Hannibal was really fucking weird. He wasn’t his patient, true, not officially at least. They were somehow stuck in this strange in-between place where the lines of friendship and professional conduct blurred more often than not.

He also knew that the arousal he had experienced during Hannibal’s massage hadn’t been unusual. Will knew it was a common physical reflex. It had however served to lift the veil from his eyes, so to speak. He had never been attracted to another man, not physically or romantically. He could, of course, recognise beauty, could appreciate it on both women and men. That massage though… It had made Will realise with frightening clarity that he was in fact attracted to Hannibal.

Most people wouldn’t consider Hannibal to be handsome, as such. His features were too angular, too sharp, his brow too prominent and his cheekbones too high. He carried himself with such elegance and charm though that none of that mattered. And of course there were his eyes, eyes that looked almost red when the light was just right, that looked straight through you.

The thought where all this could lead both scared Will witless and excited him beyond measure.

He picked at the label of his beer bottle with his thumbnail, watched the perspiration slide down the glass. “Do you think Tobias Budge wanted Franklyn to join him?” Back to safer topics. Homicidal maniacs and cold-blooded acts of violence were always a safer topic than _feelings_.

Hannibal took a sip from his glass and rolled the wine around his mouth for a moment. “I believe he wanted to impress someone.”

“The Ripper?”

Hannibal inclined his head. “Most likely.”

Will ran a hand through his hair. They had been over this for what felt like a thousand times already but ultimately it was nothing but guess work. Tobias Budge was dead. There was no telling what, if anything, he had known about the Ripper. Nevertheless, they continued to bat ideas back and forth, Will because he wanted to avoid other, more personal subjects, Hannibal most likely because he enjoyed the intellectual exercise.

When Will’s bottle and Hannibal’s glass were empty, they rose to check on Abigail, Hannibal taking the lead. He walked with the slightest limp, and Will beat down the impulse to offer his support. He felt like a lovesick teenager all of a sudden. Which was ludicrous for any number of reasons.

Hannibal stopped just inside the living room, causing Will to almost barrel straight into him. He just barely caught himself, his hands coming up to Hannibal’s waist to steady himself, and he blushed, snatching his hands back as though he’d been burned. Hannibal looked back at him with the most amused expression Will had ever seen on him, and he ducked his head and muttered a, “Sorry.”

Hannibal motioned at the pile of dogs in front of the fireplace, and it took Will a moment to understand what he was looking at. There on the floor, amongst his dogs, lay Abigail, curled up on one of the dog pillows, with Buster pressed against her stomach and Winston resting his head on her thigh. She was fast asleep.

Will smiled softly. The smile tugged at his face painfully. “We should wake her. It’s late.”

Hannibal shook his head and almost-limped to Will’s bed, picking up a blanket. He spread it over Abigail, Winston raising his head with an offended look on his face, and Buster just giving a huff as the blanket covered him, not moving at all. “Let her sleep. She appears to be at peace here.”

Will barked a humourless laugh. “Isn’t that the most screwed up thing you’ve ever heard? Finally at peace in the house of the guy who shot her father.”

Hannibal straightened and walked back over to him, placing a hand in the small of his back and steering him back into the kitchen. “The man who saved her life.”

Will let him manoeuvre him back into a chair. “I keep wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have done that.” He looked up at Hannibal through his hair, half-hiding behind it.

“You think death would have been a kindness?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I’m not certain of an awful lot these days.”

Hannibal slid into the chair on the other side of the table, lacing his hands together. “Jack has been putting you through quite a lot lately. That it should have an effect on your state of mind is to be expected.”

“I just...” He rubbed a hand over his face, found the groove in the table top with his other again, let his fingertip slide back and forth in it. “I don’t know if it’s… really just the strain from – from work.” He stumbled over the last word, screwed up his face. Calling what he did work made it seem so... mundane when it really was anything but.

“I shall have to keep an eye on you, then.” Hannibal smiled softly, and Will found himself mirroring him. He fidgeted in his seat, looking over at the clock mounted on the wall.

“You can go, if you want. I can take Abigail back tomorrow.”

Hannibal cocked his head to the side. “I was hoping you would let me make use of your spare bedroom. It is really rather late, and I think the forecast said something about ice on the roads.”

Will’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes flicking over to Hannibal’s face to see if he was joking but no, the man was one hundred percent serious. He laughed nervously. “As long as you don’t bill me for the orthopaedic care you’re going to need after sleeping on that mattress.”

They bid each other good night soon after, and as Will settled on his bed and pulled his blanket up to his chin, watching Abigail still sleeping peacefully on the floor, he couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that spread through his belly. Maybe this was what having a family felt like? A completely screwed up, scarred and psychologically unstable family, sure, but a family nonetheless.

He had thought he wanted Alana Bloom. He _was_ attracted to her, absolutely. She was very pretty, very smart. The problem was, she would always try to fix him. They both knew she would. It was just as well that they had realised it before making the mistake of taking it further than that kiss.

Outside, the snow was still falling silently, and inside, Will prayed to whichever god would listen that he would not have any nightmares tonight. Maybe this time, somebody would hear him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will was woken by Cinnamon jumping onto his stomach the next morning, forcing the air out of him with an “Oof!”, followed immediately by “What the fuck, Cin?” Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked over at the alarm clock, rubbing a hand over his face at the 6:48am that glowed at him. “For the love of...” Will considered just turning over and trying to go back to sleep, but for some reason his mouth tasted like cardboard (probably the combination of wine and beer the night before), and he forced himself to get up to go brush his teeth. Cinnamon grumbled at him as he pushed her to the side, and he trudged up the stairs slowly, stifling a yawn.

The door to the bathroom was closed, and Will frowned as he heard water running inside. That was weird. Maybe he had sleepwalked again? He opened the door, and sure enough, the shower was running, the air hot and humid. Will sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. This really had to stop.

He reached for the shower curtain and pulled it aside to turn off the shower, and found himself face to face with Hannibal. A very _naked_ Hannibal.

“Holy…!”

Hannibal turned his head, brushing water out of his eyes with one hand, smiling down at Will calm as you please. “Good morning, Will.”

Will knew he should pull the curtain closed, turn around and leave. He should apologise. Should do anything but what he was doing, which was to stare, completely dumbfounded. How could he _not_ stare? He had never seen Hannibal in anything but a three piece suit, and those hid an awful lot, as became apparent to him now. Hannibal was pale and lean, with a surprisingly broad chest. A tuft of greying hair grew there, hair that trailed downwards along a muscular stomach, and further downwards…

Will wrenched his eyes upwards through sheer force of will, his face hot. Hannibal was still smiling at him serenely, and Will’s face heated up even more. Hannibal reached for the shower curtain and pulled it from Will’s grip, covering himself at last.

“I assume you forgot I was here.”

Will took a step back. “I’m _so_ sorry, Hannibal, I didn’t...” He turned away, met his own eyes in the mirror. He looked about as horrified as he felt. “I thought… I thought I left the water running. I didn’t mean to...”

A warm hand touched his shoulder, making him jump. “I understand.” Hannibal let go of him and reached for the towel waiting for him on the sink, then moved back behind the shower curtain and turned off the water. A moment later, he stepped out of the tub and stood on the rug in front of it. “You’re not used to having guests. I promise, I take no offence at your intrusion.”

Will cleared his throat, looking at him from the corner of his eye, only turning to face him when he spotted the towel now slung around Hannibal’s hips. There were water droplets running down his neck and chest, and Will couldn’t look away. “But...”

Hannibal raised his hand, cutting him off. “No buts, Will. I shall get dressed now, and then I am going to make breakfast for you and Abigail.”

He moved past Will with a final pat on his arm, and Will looked after him until he closed the door, leaving Will to stare at it. He sat heavily on the lid of the toilet, running a hand through his hair. His voice trembled as he spoke into the empty silence of the room. “What the _actual fuck_ , Graham?”

Hannibal was in the kitchen when Will finally found the courage to go back downstairs again 20 minutes later, working at the stove in his shirt sleeves. Abigail was still asleep, but the dogs began stirring around her as the smell of bacon spread through the house, and it wouldn’t be long until they woke her up. Will stood by the door as he watched Hannibal work, and he shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“Hannibal, I...”

Hannibal looked up at him from the plates he was just setting down on the table, giving him one of his little half-smiles. His hair was still damp, falling into his eyes. “Will. It’s quite alright.”

“At least let me help.” He fidgeted under Hannibal’s unwavering gaze, moving forward at last to escape his scrutiny. “Can’t let you do all the work when you’re supposed to be my guest.” He reached for the cutlery already waiting next to the sink, and for a moment he wondered where _the hell_ Hannibal had found linen napkins before remembering that he’d been given those by a now dead aunt as a house-warming gift. He had never used them and they looked brand new. Of course Hannibal would find them.

Hannibal appeared beside him, his arm brushing against Will’s as he reached for the salt. He smelled of Will’s shower gel, something cheap that was certain to offend his aristocratic nose, and Will smiled to himself as he imagined him heading straight for the shower once he got home, slathering himself in his own, no doubt terribly expensive, aftershave.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hannibal was watching him from the corner of his eye as he set the napkins and salt shaker on a tray (and where in the name of fluffy kittens did _that_ come from?), fussing with the edges of the napkins.

This all felt much too domestic all of a sudden. Sure, Will had seen him naked, Hannibal had sort of almost seen him naked. But they were just friends. Will was very certain that whatever attraction he felt towards Hannibal was entirely one-sided.

“I was just thinking about how much you must despise smelling like that.”

Hannibal leaned closer, smiling conspiratorially, and Will’s heart gave an odd little jump. “I actually quite like it. Don’t tell anyone. I have appearances to uphold.” With that, he picked up the tray and turned away, leaving Will to stare down at the cutlery as he tried to get his pulse to slow down.

The dogs padded into the kitchen one after the other, lured by the smell, and a moment later Abigail followed, rubbing bleary eyes. “Morning.”

Hannibal smiled at her as he drew out her chair. “Good morning.”

She sank into the chair, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug Hannibal placed in front of her. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Will finally pulled himself together enough to lay out the cutlery. “We didn’t want to disturb the dogs.” He winked at her, and she laughed.

Hannibal served them bacon and scrambled eggs and toasted slices of dark bread left over from their dinner, and as Will sipped his coffee and listened to Abigail complaining about the other girls at Port Haven, the thought that he could get used to mornings like these crept up on him. Yeah, he could get used to having a family.

The END


End file.
